


glowstars

by Silverhearted



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Character Development, F/F, Gen, Heads up romance is mainly just ment, Lena Absolutely fucking stims & you cannot change my mind, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Sleepovers, Webby does too but unfortunately didn't come up, [me voice] Oops! All stim, itse just...... Softe, so does violet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhearted/pseuds/Silverhearted
Summary: In which; Lena Aches.





	glowstars

Lena wanted in Vagues.

Needs have always, always been something she knew, has known- but wants are new. Maybe that was part of being a former shadow. A former...  
.

Webby, is new.

\--  
Sleepovers are new.

Glowy-stars and Friendship Bracelets and late-night movies and comfortable silence are New, and Lena isn't sure how to feel about them yet. Because they're _new-_ and new usually means dangerous, and unpredictable, and hard to plan around, but-

  
Webby smiles, infectious and sweet and enthusiastic at the start of the night & Lena can't help but return it. Half-lidded, bemused, but There and Concrete and More Honest than feels safe- she didn't give her beak permission to turn up at the corners like that.

And as the night winds down, tv ignored in favor of phone and journal respectively, well- it's nice. Lena taps away at a writing app, chasing a thread of muse, and can't find it in herself to be bothered by the sound of graphite scratching against paper. Arcing, now- she must be drawing. Something swooping, pencilstrokes curved and repetitive. The noise was only so often interrupting by the rubbing of an eraser.

She wondered what she was drawing.  
But muse was fickle, and poetry didn't stay in a solid form very long.

Lena wrote of stars, lime-green luminescent and beautiful, picture-perfect replicas of constellations because of *course* they were, and decided the steady warmth pushing for room somewhere between fight and fear in her ribcage was something she could worry about tomorrow.

  
\--

  
Lena aches like she's run for days on end, when Webby runs a quiet finger over their hands. Holding hands. She'll let go, soon- because soon Lena will be all-the-way awake, and less draped over Webby's recovery bed, less Reaching and lost-looking and forelorn, and Webby will realize she's awake and back off and hide it because she's so, so scared of overstepping- and it makes Lena frustrated and grateful in equal, heaping amounts.

(the mission went well, supposedly. that didn't comfort her. she knew her eyes must have been vicious, when she thought back- just by how Scrooge half-flinched when she met his.  
she still paid attention, half-lidded but Listening, as Webby told her about the crypts. Clearly, she wanted someone to infodump to- Lena couldn't begrudge her that. Besides, what kind of best friend wouldn't?  
She told Magica it was just to keep up appearances.  
She told herself the same.  
She wasn't sure either believed her.)

  
\--

  
When Webby cries, it's like a thunderstorm on a night she couldn't manage shelter. It's cold and hurts and she Aches, because in the shadows she can't reach out. She can't hold Webby or rub soothing circles over her back or even just Be There, she can't do any of the things every cheesy novel's comfort scenes entail because she can't _be_.

Lena hurts, because when Webby cries she cries Quietly. The I-Don't-Want-To-Be-Found kind. The _I Don't Want To Bother_ kind. And it makes Lena so, so angry- because she knows She's the reason why.

Because Webby clutches her friendship bracelet like a lifeline, and through the raw magic embedded in it Lena can almost feel it. Like a hug, like a reassurance, like a Promise.

Lena coils around Webby in as much as the shadows of the room will allow, and wishes to any Wishing Star that may exist- every celestial body and every single glowy star on the ceiling- that she'll be able to return it soon.

\--

When she meets Violet, Lena is anxious and antsy and Wary. Because Violet is a _danger_  
<strike>to her</strike> to Webby. A spy, possibly- a Traitor lying in wait. Lena would know, Lena _was-_

But then Violet is kind, and she makes Webby happy, and she wants to help, and a small, quiet part of Lena is only scared of her more- what a perfect replacement.

And then the Tulpas are gone, and Webby and Violet are safe, and Lena's going to be gone too.  
But that's okay, she thinks.  
And Webby cries, and Lena tries to smile- because she was always going to disappear, in the end, she thinks. But at least Webby got closure. At least she had another friend. At least Lena got to hold her hand one more time.  
And she holds Violet's hand too. Because she doesn't know her, and she knows way too much about magic, and the thought of being replaced **aches** like a broken promise, but she'll try. She'd be a good friend, too-  
Probably a better one.  
No.. evil aunt, to report to, after all.

And then Lena was still there.  
And she didn't know what to do.

And she didn't have to.  
Webby's arms are warm and sure around her and so were Violet's and Lena decided, then and there, that past Lena was an entire dumbass.  
Hugs Fucking Rocked.

And as she holds them, tight and sure and Just-To-Make-Sure, she aches in a way that is warm and strong and too big to fit in her chest, and she doesn't mind at all.  
She's _missed_ feeling this.

If she's extra touchy-feely that night, who could blame her? Holding hands was nice. Hugging was nice. Fist bumps were nice. Knowing that you were A. three dimensional, B. with friends, and C. Free, all at the same time was Nice.  
She's sprawled over both of them like a cat when she wakes up. She can't find it in herself to mind.

In the morning, Lena rests her head on Webby's as she teaches her how to make friendship bracelets.  
Lena internally starts drawing up color plans.

  
\--

Violet is feral and daring and magic in a Stubborn way, and Lena would topple mountains to keep her from accidentally magic-ing her way into an untimely death. She might have done something like that before, actually.  
Violet is also her sister, and she can has and will physically fight her for the remote.

She helps her set up her own space, with her lava-lamp and the small pack of glow-stars Webby gave her and a million other keepsakes they find or steal or happen upon. About 33% of them were probably cursed, but they were Hers.

She has a desk now! A few pocket notebooks, a little turret figurine from the Portal game Violet bullied her into playing co-op with, an obsidian dagger, a few stim toys she'd been gifted, a little succulent perched on her windowsill whom she'd affectionately named Green Dude.

Her box of treasures sits sure and steady on the desk, too. A runestone from Violet that stayed cold to the touch, a few sea-polished stones she'd found on the beach, a wooden bird carved to be mid-flight from Webby, three colored paper stars from Huey, Dewey, and Louie respectively- and a few old coins from her dads.

Lena ached in a warm, familiar, too-full kind of way.

Her dads- Hers now, no longer just Violet's- they'd done a lot to make sure she was comfortable. That she knew she was family.  
Her therapist was great. Adjusting had taken.. a *lot,* and progress wasn't linear, but it was something. She shared a therapist with Donald, actually- that meeting had been a bit of a shock for both of them. But the older duck was kind, and helped her stop freaking out about what her first session would be like a little, and also an incredible source of triplet-blackmail.

Lena set a little jade lion statue back on her windowsill, and decided maybe the aching was okay.

\---

Lena sprawled over Webby's bed, absently watching Violet draw a circle in chalk on the floor. She reflected, briefly, on the life choices that led her up to this moment.  
Eh.

She glanced up at Webby, the other's eyes sharp and dire as they flickered over the book in her hands.

Lena spun her fidget ring with her thumb, letting out a sigh.  
"If we die again, I'm gonna be angry. This one better be survivable, Vi."

Violet gave as much as a scoff as she could without jostling her line.  
"_Please_. I've been studying this one for ages. It should, by all logic, be a stable portal."

Lena gave an unsure hum.  
"Alright," she started, Somehow the voice of reason among the three, "But if we end up in Hell and meet Scrappy-Doo, I'm blaming you."

"Please! Scrappy-Doo doesn't _exist_. Even I know that one." Webby snorted, somehow managing to read and keep track of the conversation simultaneously. Lena internally marveled at the Wonders Of Multitasking.

The elder Sabrewing sister hummed noncommittally, eyes halflidded as she set her hands behind her head, looking up to the glow-stars she knew by now that Webby shifted with the actual night sky.

Lena decided.  
This was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> What's the portal for? Fuck dude I dunno choose your own adventure. Yeehaw. The concept from Lena's box of treasures comes from this [ https://magica-de-spell.tumblr.com/post/186328143785/give-us-the-juicy-ducktales-headcanons-della-has ] post


End file.
